


I Shall Burn Without You

by moriartish



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bad Ideas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, Love, M/M, Relationship(s), Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:50:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6295729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriartish/pseuds/moriartish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mark on his chest emanated with slight warm, almost impalpable. It was like this since he had arrived to Paris.<br/>-<br/>The pain was almost unendurable. His heart was beating fast. His soulmate was close. Closer than ever before. Why did it show up at this moment?<br/>-<br/>Even if he was going to feel endless pain, going through eternal torment.<br/>He knew it would have been worth it.</p><p> well, the soulmate fic no one asked me to do</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Burning

**Author's Note:**

> HellO!
> 
> Firstly: I wrote this just for my own suffering but I decided to share! Here's where I got the idea from:  
> { http://wannabe-british-fangirl.tumblr.com/post/140258123830/soulmate-au-where-everyone-has-a-mark-on-their }
> 
> Secondly: I'm Polish, that's why I decided to add some words from my language, because I can totally see Grantaire being this way, I hope you'll enjoy him! (and other characters too)
> 
> Thirdly: Have fun!

my dear, our souls met long before our eyes did.

a.p., a ten word story

 

 

„Do you feel it?” Jehan touched his skin gently, rubbing little mark, settled just above his heart. He asked about it often, almost every day since they started their relationship. He wanted to make sure Grantaire was his soulmate. Every time the artist confirmed his words, Jean blushed hardly and his lips formed into shy smile, full of happiness. Oh, and Grantaire loved this sight. The way Jehan’s light hair fell on his cheeks, covering grey eyes, where he could see pure trust. The way his shoulders quaked when he laughed. He also loved the way his voice was becoming mysterious when he was reading his poems. The only problem was fact, that in reality, Grantaire loved only the way Jehan was created. He didn’t feel anything for this boy.

The mark on his chest emanated with slight warm, almost impalpable. It was like this since he had arrived to Paris. Nothing changed when he met Jehan. And although the poet was certain they were soulmates, Grantaire couldn’t believe it. Not entirely, at least. That’s why he only nodded, when Jean told him their marks don’t have to burn for them to be made for each other. Even when they touched it was difficult for them to tell if the warm disappeared. It was too gentle.

„Of course.” R propped on his elbow, wrapping his arm around Jehan and bringing him closer, so he could place a careful kiss on his lips. Boy repaid it quickly. They lasted in each other’s arms for a few beautiful, slow moments before Grantaire fell again on the pillows, stroking Jean’s naked back, „I sold six painting on the display.”

Jehan put head next to his and smiled.

„That’s great. I knew they were going to appreciate you” he whispered, pulling sheets on them, „How many of them did Karol buy?”

„Four. He didn’t want to let me go until I gave him _Brzask_ too. _”_

„You said you won’t sell it to anyone.”

The artist closed his eyes, trying to remember his favourite painting. He painted it before leaving Warsaw. It depicted one of his dreams, stunning sunrise. Rays of the light were dancing on the side of the mountain, creating a shadowy mirage of a figure of a man with a spear in his hand. The greek god, Ares. For a better relation, Grantaire added fire in the centre, absorbing small village in the valley. He promised himself he will keep it for himself. Mostly because of the Ares, who showed up constantly in his dreams like he wasn’t going to leave him alone. Regardless, he owed a lot to Karol, who sometimes mentioned how he likes this painting. He was going to buy it, no matter the cost. And now, when Grantaire decided to stay in Paris, he dropped his dreams about elusive god. He could get rid of it.

„Times have changed.” he said, looking at Jehan. He took strand of his hair in hand and put it behind man’s ear, dropping a little kiss on his cheek. Instinctually, Jean moved closer to him in search of a touch. The mark on his chest was light. It connoted some kind of jagged flower. Grantaire always thought he haven’t seen one more beautiful than this. His own was oblong, more looking as a scar. It had a few different shades.

Jehan stretched, glancing at the wall clock. Grantaire followed his gaze.

„I gotta go, _kochany._ ”

„ _Mon chéri._ ” Jean pushed away and nodded. He watched R as he was putting his clothes on, „Have fun.”

„I’m sure I will.” Grantaire smiled under his breath, „Bahorel promised me that his time he will kick my ass in a round of poker. Too bad I’ll have to sit with him through the entire a meeting.”

„I told you about Les Amis.” Jean interrupted, „I’m actually thinking about joining them. They’re speaking against the government. I showed you their blog.”

„Forgive me but I must have been drunk as hell. Firstly, I wouldn’t read something like that sober. Politics is not my game. Secondly, I was probably watching you and couldn’t hear even one word.

Jehan laughed, throwing pillow at him.

„I’m going out too. Maybe I’ll come home before you but please, take keys.”

Grantaire put on his jacket and took a bag in his hands, popping some pencils and a sketchbook inside. Then he winked at his boyfriend. For a moment, he wondered if he should go out. Jean was sitting on the bed with his knees under the chin, smiling at him peacefully. He looked so tender and calm that R wanted to lay down next to him and kiss every inch of his body.

„I must keep my hands busy. I’ll see you later.” he said, waving his hand. He walked out of their apartment before he could hear Jehan’s response.

 

—

 

Grantaire was strolling down the streets for about half of an hour. The weather that day was awful. Big, grey clouds were covering the sky, cold wind was blowing so forcibly, it was broking pedestrians umbrellas and mud was almost everywhere because of the rain. That’s why Grantaire cursed when it started raining. He watched people running around, escaping from the water, hiding in buildings or restaurants. He reached for his pocket, taking a small piece of paper out of it. Bahorel wrote him the name of the cafeteria and the address where he wanted to meet. For a few first minutes everything written on the paper was readable, but then all what was left was askew written _MUSAIN._

Grantaire got drenched. His steps got faster, until he was standing in front of a small building, placed in completely unknown for him part of Paris. One of the waiters in some random restaurant gave him little instructions, but even he himself couldn’t remember the name of the cafeteria. It surely wasn’t the most popular place around locals.

There was a little group of men, standing outside on the porch. They were talking really quietly, every one of them holding a glass of wine in hand and inferring rom how suddenly they bursted into laugher, it wasn’t their first round.

Grantaire ran up to them, trying to get to the entrance. Unfortunately, he docked one of them with his arm. The man toppled, cursing under his breath. He turned to R immediately. That’s when Grantaire noticed a huge stain on his shirt.

„I’m sorry.”  he murmured, taking door-handle in is hand, but the man caught his hood, bringing him closer to himself.

„You’ve ruined my shirt, idiot.” he said.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow, looking him dead in the eye.

„If you want to know my opinion, there really wasn’t anything to ruin.”

The man exhaled loudly. A younger boy, standing on the right put his palm on man’s shoulder.

„Easy, Babet. He apologized. I actually agree with him on the shirt.” he laughed and gave Grantaire an amused look, „Go.”

R thanked him and walked into the cafeteria, hearing the man insulting him behind his back. The first thing that stroked him was strong smell of lavender. Too strong, for his taste. He took a few steps, but there was no one who could bring his attention. And he couldn’t see Bahorel either. The biggest group in the room was made only out of girls, who were vigorously discussing something. One of them got up, taking salver in his hands and walked up to the bar, skillfully avoiding tables and guests. She noticed his concerned face and approached him.

„Hi, I’m Chetta. I’m sorry about the smell. Our new worker got crazy with the air freshener. Are you looking for someone?” she asked, smiling wildly. Girl was really short, which made Grantaire wanting to bend to her so he could hear her clearly.

„I’m R. Listen, I don’t know if I’m supposed to give you some kind of a secret password, but I’m looking for a lot of people, who’re interested in our government, or should I say, in overthrowing it.”

Chetta laughed, correcting her bangs. Then she only pointed upwards. Grantaire nodded and turned around, looking for the stairs.

With every step he took coming upstairs, he was more than sure it was the wrong place. From Bahorel’s stories, Les Amis’s meetings were full of conversations, screaming, discussions and clapping. Meanwhile, closer Grantaire was to the room, quieter it was around. He knocked on the door, before coming in. Almost half of the people inside raised from their sits, dropping cards, they were holding in their hands. Everybody looked at him. Apparently, they were waiting for somebody else, quickly losing interest in R. Bahorel moved his chair.

„Grantaire! It took you long enough to get here. Nice to see you.”

Man showed him a sit next to himself and with a movement of his head, he invited him to join them. The artist knew some of the people around. Feuilly - Bahorel’s soulmate. He said hi also to Courfeyrac and his soulmate - Combeferre. Cosette was sitting on her’s destiny’s laps, Marius.„I thought it was going to be a serious meeting.” Grantaire said, looking at the cards.

„We… have a little delay.” Combeferre explained, adjusting his glasses, „Enjolras is late. He asked us not to start without him.”

„Enjolras?” Grantaire made himself comfortable. He got a feeling like he heard that name before. It wasn’t really common one.

„One of us. Actually, he is kind of the leader, but he doesn’t want to admit it.” Courfeyrac smirked. Few of the attendees confirmed his words, shyly. Grantaire gave a hand to two other man, he didn’t know before. They introduced themselves as Joly and Bossuet. Girl, sitting on the very end of the table waved to him, murmuring something like „Coline.”

„I thought you were going to come with Jean.” Bahorel said sliding a bottle of beer into his hand. 

„He was busy.”

„Jehan?” Cosette interrupted, suddenly leaning on the table. Grantaire nodded, „Bahorel told me about you two.”

Feuilly looked concerned at his boyfriend, poking him.

R gulped, combing his hair with fingers. Girl was smiling at him friendly. He knew she didn’t mean anything bad, although her words hurt him a little.

„What exactly did Bahorel tell you?” he asked, jokingly kicking his friend on the leg.

„That you can’t feel your mark. Same as Jehan, but you two are together.”

„That’s not true. I feel warm. But I admit, it is really hard to sense.”

Cosette slipped from Marius’s laps on her own chair, interested in his words. Boy took her hand, keeping the contact.

„Jehan thinks you are his soulmate. How about you? Do you know what it feels like to have your soulmate next to you?”

„No, I can only imagine that.”

The noise suddenly went quiet, as more people decided to listen to their conversation. 

„I know it hurts. At least, if you are not touching your destiny.” Grantaire pointed at Cosette and Marius’s joined hands.

„It burns only for some time in a relationship. For example: our marks don’t hurt as much as they used to.” Courfeyrac smiled at Combeferre.

„My mark is warm, since I came to Paris.” R said, frowning. His skin on the chest suddenly started to get warmer. He put his hand on the mark.

Bahorel inhaled, grabbing cards lying on the table.

„It means your soulmate is in this city” Feuilly noticed.

Grantaire brought up his sight, looking at him certainly.

„Jehan is my soulmate.” he said, at once feeling as his mark started to burn even more. He pushed away from the table with a surprised look on his face. _What the…_

In this exact moment, window behind him opened widely. A little boy stumbled inside, breathing heavily.

„He’s coming!” he shouted, looking straight on Combeferre. Everyone turned towards the door, cleaning up empty bottles. Marius put all the cards to the box. Grantaire was sitting still with his hand on a chest, gazing at the wall. The pain was almost unendurable. His heart was beating fast. His soulmate was close. Closer than ever before. Why did it show up at this moment? Somebody poked him on the shoulder.

„You alright?” the boy was frowning. He appeared to be worried, but his voice was more mocking than caring. Grantaire muttered something, grabbing his bag. 

 _Jehan_. 

His name appeared in R’s mind. Jean. Jean believed they were soulmates. Grantaire really wanted them to be. But deep inside, he knew it wasn’t the truth. And he let himself delude. Himself and Jehan. He looked around, and his gaze stopped on the opened window.

„If I’ll use this as an exit, will I be able to walk again?” he asked. The boy shrugged. Grantaire vacillated for a while, but the mark on his chest was burning too painfully, for him to think straight. He ran up to the window, and put one of his legs outside. He stopped again. Was he really ready to break his legs? He felt so overpowered by fear. He didn’t want to know his soulmate. He didn’t need it.

„Grantaire!” he heard Bahorel’s scream behind him. He looked at his friend, who seemed to be pretty amused by his idea.

It was too late.

The door opened with a grinding. A tall, thin man appeared in the frame. His pale face was orbed by bunch blond locks. Grantaire could see a spark in his stunning blue eyes. Red jacked was tight on his shoulders.

„Grantaire?” he said calmly, giving Combeferre a surprised look, „Do we have a new member?”

R slid on the floor from the window sill, not even for a second looking away from this man. His thoughts, to this moment full of Jehan, suddenly changed into another name.

_Ares._

His Ares, standing just in front of him, exactly the same as the way he painted him. Beautiful profile, well-build body, eyes full of certainty and fervor. The only thing missing was a spear in his hand and a flame around his naked body.

Grantaire winced, as another outbreak of pain pinned in his chest. He got that impression, as if someone rended his skin, put him at the stake and burned him alive. He heard Courfeyrac’s words.

„Yeah, it’s R. There, in the corner. Don’t expect him to be any kind of help. He’s that weird tendency not to believe in anything at any case.

Ares turned to Grantaire and quickly paced the distant between them. The artist groaned quietly, when the man stopped a step away. His face didn’t show any kind of emotions. If he was Grantaire’s soulmate, he must have felt the same. Why didn’t he say anything? Did his mark hurt less?

„So, you are a cynic?” the boy asked, hiding a smile in the corner of his lips, „I’m Enjolras. I hope you will change your mind and try to give us some support.”

Grantaire stood up, detaching his hand from chest. He reached out to Enjolras, who fervently grabbed his palm. R closed his eyes with a relief. The pain was gone. He bit his lip. This man was his soulmate, he was certain. Beautiful Ares, who showed up in his dreams almost every night. _Enjolras,_ he corrected himself.

„I’ll do everything for you.” Grantaire heard his own words, noticing how well his hand fitted inside leader’s. He opened his eyes again. Enjolras moved a little closer to him, measuring R with his eyes. After a while, he let go of his hand. Grantaire felt sudden pain coming back to his chest. Burning was much harder to take this time.

„I’m glad.” Enjolras said, before leaving him and sitting down behind the table with his friends, „Maybe I’ll make a you a revolutionary ”

Grantaire shook his head, struggling not to groan. He sat on the chair in the corner of the room, taking out pencils from his bag. He observed every move Enjolras made through the whole meeting. Was he going to talk to him? He didn’t even look in his way. R decided not to talk, although he was laughing inside at some of the speeches. For the first time in a very long time, he drawn his Ares. This time, much more clear.

 

—

 

„Thank you all for coming. Again, I am really sorry for being late. I’ll see you next week.”

Grantaire raised his head sharply at the sound of these words. The mark was pulsing under his shirt with heat like it was trying to remind him of its presence. His friends had left the room, inviting R to play poker with them, but he refused. Enjolras got down to some papers lying on the table, completely focusing on them. Grantaire put his sketchbook inside the bag, waiting for everyone else to leave. Even when this happened, Enjolras still didn’t say anything. He was writing something, losing himself in it. 

The artist stood up, clearing his throat discreetly. The man frowned, noticing him. He looked up.

„Oh. Isn’t it our new cynic?” he muttered, „Did I convince you, Gar…?”

„Grantaire. But R is enough.

Enjolras put down his pencil, crossing his arms.

„How did you like the meeting?”

„Politics isn’t my game.” Grantaire nervously moved his leg on the floor, „Don’t you think… we have something to talk about?”

The leader smiled and R returned it. He walked closer, sitting next to him. He propped his hand on the backrest.

„About what if politics isn’t your game?” Enjolras said. Grantaire felt a camp in his stomach as constant pain made him sick.

„I would love to know more about you. If we’re talking honestly.” he whispered, seeing a shadow of misapprehension coming up man’s face.

„I’m not sharing my private with complete strangers.”

Grantaire leaned to him, fighting with the burning.

„Strangers?” he asked.

Enjolras frowned, pulling away. He bowed his head towards his papers.

„Forgive me. I don’t really feel comfortable.” he murmured.

R went silent. Why was he acting like that? He didn’t like the way Grantaire looked? Or maybe his pessimism was a barrier for them? What the hell was going on? 

Only after a longer while it hit him. He heard about cases like this, but he never thought it would happen to him.

„Oh… I’m not…”

„You’re not what?” Enjolras raised an eyebrow, curious. Grantaire smirked, feeling like an idiot. It was so obvious.

„I’m sorry. It’s nothing. I had a rough day.” he felt his throat balling. He wasn’t Enjolras’s soulmate.

„I understand you. Don’t worry.” the man exhaled hardly, rubbing his neck. „I’m struggling with the government for two weeks now, so they would let us organize a not-violent demonstration.”

„They won’t agree?”

„Every previous rant turned into riots with fighting. Mostly, it was police’s fault.”

Enjolras ran fingers through his hair. Locks fell on his face and neck. Grantaire couldn’t take his eyes of this man. He wasn’t really sure if he didn’t need his soulmate.

„I know… it’s really nothing big, but I know an art gallery, where I show my own paintings. I thought maybe you would like to hang there some of your banners. I could talk to the owner.”

Enjolras thought for a while about his proposition.

„It’s really good idea. Are you an artist?”

„I’m a painter. And a sculptor, but only occasionally.” R laughed quietly. The leader took his phone out of a pocket, opening the calendar app.

„When are your displays? I would love to see your art.”

„In the next week, on Friday. Gallery’s name is _Na poddaszu._

„I’ll show up. It’s really good proposition.” Enjolras saved the date, suddenly stopping himself, before writing the name of the place, „How do you…?”  
Grantaire took his phone wrote it down.

„It’s Polish. Owners are my good friends, they were living in Cracow.”

Enjolras thanked him and turned off the device.

„Very well… I must say you begin to intrigue me, Grantaire.” the artist shivered, hearing his name. It sounded better than ever. He could listen to it for hours, only if Enjolras agreed to repeat it, „I must excuse you, but doing this paper work is really going to take a lot of time. I’d rather do it now.”

Grantaire moved closer to him, tired of the pain.

„Of course. I’m on my way. Would you… care to hug me?” he said, shyly.

„Hug you.” Enjolras repeated these words carefully, before looking him in the face, „I don’t think I mind it.”

Grantaire immediately put his arms around his neck, tugging him close, freeing himself from the pain. He smelled Enjolras’s cologne. It smelled like oranges and sandalwood. R found it funny that he recognized this two smells. They fitted his soulmate. Even if they were completely different, they worked with each other perfectly. Grantaire wanted to touch Enjolras’s hair with his fingers, kiss his jaw, neck, those beautiful lips. He couldn’t. He wasn’t Enjolras’s soulmate. He couldn’t do it. The leader patted him on the back, before pushing away.

„You must’ve got an awful day.” he said.

„You wouldn’t believe me.”

 

—

 

Grantaire nobbled to the doors of his apartment an hour after leaving Musain. He ran as fast as he could, keeping all his thoughts away. The pain in the chest disappeared. His mark was normal again. Slightly warm. Enjolras was his soulmate. He met him at last. So many years he wondered about this moment. But he wasn’t Enjolras’s destiny. No. It didn’t change anything.

R leaned on the doorframe. _It doesn’t change anything,_ he whispered to himself. He was with Jehan. He loved the way Jean was. He wasn’t going to leave him just for somebody who won’t ever love him.

Grantaire reached to his pocked, taking out the keys. His hands were trembling, so it took him a moment to open the door. Lights weren’t on, but it didn’t mean his boyfriend wasn’t home. Just as Grantaire thought, Jehan was lying on the couch with a book in his hands. He looked up from the lecture, when R walked in.

„You’re home early.” 

Jehan smiled, pulling his hair from his face. And, oh gods, this simple move made Grantaire think about Enjolras’s locks. He throw his bag away, closing the door behind him. He kneeled in front of Jean, taking his face in hands and kissing him gently. Boy kissed him back with joy. His lips were soft and full of sweetness. R wondered if kissing Enjolras would be the same. Knowing every centimeter of his body, getting lost in touch, leaving new marks on his skin, feeling the warmth under his fingers. He sat next to Jehan on the couch, feeling his eyes getting wet from little tears.

Jean curled up against him, closing his eyes. He put his palm on Grantaire’s chest, slowly dabbing his mark under the shirt.

„I made you a dinner.” he whispered, setting his book aside.

„It can wait.” R said. They both smiled.

Only now, Grantaire let one little thought get to his head, which strung his nerves completely. If Jehan found his destiny, he would have to let him go. What will be there left for him? Wistfully looking after Enjolras, hoping he will fall in love with him?

He placed another kiss on Jean’s forehead, drawing little circles on his shoulder with a finger. Once again, he saw his soulmate in his mind. Beautiful, blue eyes, stunning body, hair tickling his neck. Calm, but firm voice. The way, their hands fitted together. Enjolras didn’t knew they were made for each other. Grantaire decided to keep it in secret. For now.

And suddenly, he felt compelling desire to meet Enjolras again. Even if he was going to feel endless pain, going through eternal torment.

He knew it would have been worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a little dictionary:
> 
> Brzask - it's really beautiful word in Polish for sunrise. I absolutely love it.  
> Kochany - "the loved one"  
> Mon chéri - French word (duh) "my dear"  
> Na poddaszu - "in the attic"
> 
> also:  
> Karol is really popular Polish name  
> Cracow is a city in Poland, one of the oldest, our previous capital city  
> "Ares" thing, well maybe if I'll continue it, we'll get to it why Grantaire called Enjolras by this name ( :) )
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoyed that little thing, I'm actually considering writing next chapter :)  
> I'm also on tumblr, come and say hi! (or send me a prompt, ask about head canons, I'd be more than happy to answer!)
> 
> { http://moriart-ish.tumblr.com }


	2. The Gallery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire showed up next meeting.  
> -  
> Jean was sitting on the grass, talking to some students.  
> -  
> Enjolras really was admiring his paintings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HellO!
> 
> Firstly: I wrote this just for my own suffering but I decided to share! Here's where I got the idea from:  
> { http://wannabe-british-fangirl.tumblr.com/post/140258123830/soulmate-au-where-everyone-has-a-mark-on-their }
> 
> Secondly: I'm Polish, that's why I decided to add some words from my language, because I can totally see Grantaire being this way, I hope you'll enjoy him! (and other characters too)
> 
> Thirdly: Have fun!
> 
> (some translations at the end)

 

Grantaire showed up next meeting. He brought a little cloth with him, which he soaked in a water from time to time and put it on his chest to ease the pain. But I didn’t bring any relief. The burning was pulsing variably, depending on how often did Enjolras walk across the room. Which was practically all the time.

R was using more drinks every while, claiming his eyelids and trying to ignore the pain. He thought about Jehan. Mostly about Jehan and about what the hell was he even doing here. The room was filled with sweet smell of alcohol. Voices were echoing from the walls.

Combeferre was writing something carefully on a piece of paper, holding Courfeyrac with his other hand, who was talking with Joly, Bossuet and Bahorel about upcoming football match. The rest of people was listening and agreeing with Enjolras. The boy was speaking so loud that he drowned out all the other voices, accenting every word surely and plainly. He was explaining a plan for the next demonstration. It seemed simple. Go out on the streets with banners and finish the walk in front of the Louvre. There was only one problem. Enjolras still didn’t receive an agreement from the government. Grantaire was apparently the only one to see that as a drawback.

„We cannot let anyone provoke us. Especially this group of idiots. I’m sure you can keep yourselves from fisticuffs and we won’t give the cabinet a satisfaction from our relentlessness. Bahorel, I’m talking to you.” Enjolras leaned over the table, looking at the man, „One sudden movement, that’s all it takes. They will think you are attacking them.”

Grantaire laughed loudly, shaking his head. He drained another glass of wine and propped head on his hand. Feuilly turned and walked up to him, taking a bottle in his hand.

„How much did you drink?” he asked. Enjolras straightened up, observing the whole situation.

„Not enough to even think that this action will work out.” Grantaire scratched his arm, looking around. He caught the leader’s sight and coughed fitfully. He squeezed a wet cloth in his hand. Feuilly frowned, swiping a glass from the table, „I mean, sorry. Demonstration! Demonstration won’t work out.”

Grantaire stood up suddenly feeling dizzy. Damn, he didn’t drink that much. At least he thought so. He lifted a bag from the floor and walked past Feuilly towards the door, sighing deeply with every step closer to Enjolras. Honestly, he was too drunk to be there. He got a feeling, he was going either to burn or vomit and he couldn’t handle them both at once.

„Wait” Enjolras crossed his way. R cursed, watching his soulmate’s hand moving closer to his arm. He pulled away involuntarily, when the burning became critical, „What do you mean?”

„Oh, The Great Ares can’t see he’s leading this group into an obvious fight! Bahorel can’t keep his hands from beating someone! We all know he’s going to start this. And later, you are going either to die on spot, or end up in prison. _Niech żyje rewolucja!”_

Enjolras’s face donned harsh expression, like he was watching a naughty child. Grantaire realized he shouldn’t be saying that, but if he was going to leave he didn’t actually give a shit about that. He wasn’t supposed to be there. Why was he letting himself suffer, only to look at his destiny? He could’ve been sitting right now in the park, listening to Jehan hosting a literature class and live in damn peace. Still, he choose the face of his god, who was looking at him right now with contempt.

„So you say that should be sitting on our asses, doing nothing while the government is killing our country from the inside?” Enjolras crossed his arms on his chest. Grantaire looked at it indiscreetly, wondering how did his mark look like.

„There are other ways. I say you shouldn’t do this. I don’t want anything to happen to you.  I don’t want anything to happen to all of you! And if you’re going out on these streets, I won’t be able to guarantee you safety.”

„What are you…”

The artist dropped his sight on the floor, hearing someone standing up behind him.

„R, this is non-violent demonstration.” Joly said. Grantaire went silent for a moment, analyzing his words, before he felt thrust in his heart, stepping backwards.

„You didn’t tell them.” he turned to Enjolras. The boy raised his eyebrows in sudden surprise. Grantaire seemed to be weirdly sober.

„You don’t understand the situation. It’s your second meeting. Maybe you don’t know what are we fighting for.”

„It doesn’t change the fact, that you didn’t tell them about lack of an agreement for the demonstration.” Grantaire looked at little concerned Combeferre, who shook his head, „You want to go out on the streets without permission and they don’t know about this!”

„I’m waiting for the answer until this evening.”

„And what if it wouldn’t show up? Were you going to do this anyway?”

Courfeyrac opened a can of beer and had a sip from it. Then he murmured something under his breath, putting it on the table.

„R is right.” he whispered, „We need to try something else. The demonstrations won’t do the whole job. People are not going to follow us if we only fight.”

A  murmurs of an agreement went through the room. Grantaire smiled and bit his lip, stepping closer to Enjolras, who tried to find a way out of this situations. The leader looked at him with a spark in his eye.

„Right. Grantaire is right.” he said calmly, putting a hand on his arm. Artist’s smile became even bigger when the pain disappeared. Enjolras leaned to him, „Do you remember your proposition from last week? Do you think you can do that?”

Grantaire gulped, feeling his hair dabbing his cheek.

„Of course. Please, don’t do anything stupid.”

Enjolras frowned, but patted his arm with quiet laugh.

„Thank you.”

Grantaire felt a vibration in his pocked. He took out his phone, looking at the message.

 

**from: Prouvaire**

**i’m done with classed. should I wait for you or just go to the gallery? xx**

 

He passed by Enjolras, letting out little hiss when the pain returned. The leader sharply grabbed his hand, stopping him.

„I’m coming to your display. I promise.”

Grantaire looked at their joined hands, feeling a nice shiver coming up his spine.

„I’d be honored, Ares.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. Before R closed the door, he heard his shout.

„Stop calling me that!”

 

—

Jean was sitting on the grass, talking to some students. He was gesturing ecstatically, from time to time shouting some words in Latin. Grantaire figured out he was telling them about philosophy lecture he attended. Jean was fascinated with how many young people he met there and he couldn’t miss a chance to invite anyone to his literature classes. People loved him, no matter how different they were. Just like now, when they were looking at him with stupid smiles on their faces, nodding at his words. That’s how almost every day looked like. Jean was sending him a message in which he said „hey i ended classes”. But then, when Grantaire was coming to pick him up, Jehan was still sitting with his students, discussing some things. Maybe he was adding himself some work, but he loved it too much. Even if it didn’t bring him a lot of money. 

Grantaire sat down on a bench, taking out his phone and took a photo of him. For a moment, he looked at the photograph, rubbing the screen with his thumb.

Jehan stood up from the ground, noticing him. He smiled to the students, saying goodbye and just after a while he was sitting next to R.

„What is that?” he asked, leaning to kiss him. The artist showed him his phone, putting an arm around him. Jean blushed immediately. He got that extraordinary tendency, but it only made him more adorable, „You must send it to me. Oh, you were drinking, weren’t you?”

Grantaire only kissed him again in response, cupping his face in hands, before Jean pushed away, coughing. 

„No more kisses before you brush your teeth.” he sighed, but R kissed him one more time, deeply, what made him laugh, „Stop it. Are we going to the gallery?”

„I missed you this whole day. We didn’t have a date in so long. Let’s go to the cinema.” Grantaire murmured, getting clingy. Jean let him tug himself close and rubbed his finger on R’s lip.

„You smell awful.”

„You smell like flowers.”

Jehan sighed, looking him in the eyes, tired.

„I got work to do. Exams are coming and it’s getting late. I must read at least one chapter from books.”

Grantaire checked his phone one more time.

„Alright. Let’s go home. You will study. I will paint. What do you say?” he put his head on Jean’s shoulder „I’ll paint this picture.”

„Will you?”

„Yes. And then I’ll talk to Karol. He will add this painting to the display. I’m sure he won’t even argue. Oh gods, you are so beautiful. Give me just one more kiss, I missed you so much.”

„Stop it!”

 

—

 

„You gotta be kidding me.”

Grantaire clasped his hands, looking at Karol with a spark in his eyes. The gallery was literally placed in the attic, which was why his friend’s office was such confined place. It was small, full of papers and books. Two big armchairs took half of the place and the other half was taken by the desk. Grantaire was starting to feel claustrophobic. And he hated fridays.

„Think about it! How many people will hear about your gallery? „Is that his place where are those banners, speaking against the government?Is that the place there the revolution started?””

„R! What’s gotten into you? What revolution? Have you ever listened to me when I was telling you about all Polish upraising? Or even French Revolution! Whatever your friends came up with, don’t even try to count me in.”

„Oh, come on! Where is the Karol I know? You always liked to fight against the authorities!”

Karol raised his eyebrows on him, shaking his head.

„No chance.”

„Karol.”

„Wanda is going to kill me!” Grantaire laughed slightly and walked up to Karol. He opened the window, breathing deeply. There were so many thoughts in his head. He promised Enjolras, he will convince the gallery’s owner to hang there some banners. At least one, „You know I can’t got mulct. I know Wanda will see it and if she does, I can guarantee it to you, I can write my last will right now.”

Grantaire put hands on hips, biting his lip.

 _„On jest moją bratnią duszą._ ” he whispered . Karol raised his head, with a shock on his face. Grantaire sighed.

„ _Ten chłopak od rewolucji?”_

The artist nodded, looking at the doors. He wondered when Jehan will get to the gallery. It was taking him so long. Or maybe he was already there.

„I don’t want him to do anything stupid. I don’t want anything to happen to him. Please, Karol. One banner. It’ll help him find other ways than fight.”

Karol leaned against the window, observing him.

„Does Jehan know?” Grantaire objected. „When did it happen?”

„Last week. I was at the meeting with Bahorel and Feuilly.”

„Alright.” Karol took a deep breath, sitting in his armchair, „I’ll talk to Combeferre. It can’t be too scandalic.” 

Grantaire leaned to him with a smile.

„Thank you.” he said, giving him a hand. Karol squeezed it, keeping him closer to himself.

„ _Daj, Boże, dobrą broń mieć, a nigdy jej nie użyć.”_

R moved away, walking towards the door.

„Your weapon are words, Karol. I’m sure you can convince Wanda to help you.”

The man laughed, throwing one of his pens at Grantaire.

„Hey. You have to tell him.”

Grantaire nodded, opening the door and leaving. _I know,_ he whispered to himself. The main hall was painted in dark green color. There were easels set in the middle with some of the paintings, but most of his art was hung on the walls. In the corner, on a little table lied an old phonograph, even though there were two new speakers next to it. Grantaire couldn’t understand Karol’s passion to unconventional mixing technology with vintage style. 

Jehan was already there, talking to Wanda, who smiled widely, putting flower crown on his head. These two loved each other and the women was a florist. Jean couldn’t help himself but ask her to make him some bouquets. There were days, when he came home with a few wreathes which he placed around the apartment. The whole place was filled with a smell of fresh flowers and Grantaire loved those moments.

Jean was holding another coronet in his hand, made out of violets. R leaned against one of the easels.

„ _Kochany”_ he said loudly. Jean immediately turned to him, waving his hand. The boy apologized to Wanda who only rolled his eyes.

„You are taking my best model away” she murmured, cleaning the floor from the petals. Jehan smiled to her shyly, walking up to Grantaire and putting a coronet on his head.

„I talked to Feuilly” he whispered, straightening his tie, „He said someone from Les Amis will show up.

Grantaire took his hand, frowning. Enjolras promised him, he will come. But was he really going to do that?  R couldn’t object, he really wanted it. See him again. Listen to his voice. Observe his movements. Enjolras started to show up in his thoughts more often and he couldn’t control it. It wasn’t his will. Too long separation from your soulmate after the first meeting. That’s how Cosette would call it. It was all mark’s fault and this damn destiny. He foolishly tied to convince himself, he could change it.

„Yeah, I heard that too” he said and kissed Jehan shortly. Boy was always so happy and vital when Grantaire was showing him any kind of his feelings. He smiled, putting arm around his neck. They heard a sharp scraping sound and just after a moment a delicate waltz music started playing. Wanda looked at them, clearly satisfied.

„We have some time before guests will come. Do you think this song is good? I’d rather play something really slow, but Karol’s playlist has only this and really tough rap.”

Grantaire gave her a thumb up.

„It’s great. Thanks” he said, noticing that Jean was carefully pattering in the rhythm with his foot. Grantaire smiled, giving him a hand, „May I have this dance?”

Jehan laughed really loudly, grabbing his hand and soon they were twirling around the hall in each other’s arms. Grantaire observed his face. The wind was dropping hair on Jean’s cheeks, covering his cheerful eyes and a blush. Oh gods, this boy was pure personification of modesty and trust. There were a few visible freckles on his skin and small stains. He had delicate features and completely straight, minor nose. The sunlight came into the room through a big window and danced on his face. No matter how many times Grantaire looked at him, he always noticed something new what he missed before. That’s the way Jehan was. Variable.

R moved closer, kissing him again, when he felt the mark on his chest becoming warmer. He closed his eyes with sudden guilt. Was he doing all of this because he wanted to keep his mind from Enjolras?

Doors opened, when the music changed to something faster. Grantaire sidled in the dance nearer to the entrance, stopping in front of the first guest. Enjolras was wearing a suit. Well-cut, elegant suit. Grantaire hold his breath, not ready for the sudden impact of pain.

„Enjolras!” he almost shouted, looking at the leader, „You came!”

The man cleared his throat, peering once at Jehan and once at R.

„Yes. I promised, remember?”

„Grantaire? Are you alright?” Jean hugged the artist, noticing something was wrong.

„Yeah. Yes.” R sighed, smiling painfully at him, „I just had a little thought. We shouldn’t leave poor Enjolras without a welcome dance! What do you think? Ares, I hope you don’t mind!”

Jean bursted out laughing, patting his arm, before walking towards the speakers and changing the music. Enjolras looked at R like he was crazy, when a man grabbed his waist and pulled him inside the hall, moving his legs in fast rhythm.

„What are you doing?” the leader grabbed his hand tighter, tentatively following his moves. He was clearly nervous, but Grantaire needed to prepare himself for another hour of pain. He breathed with relief, furtively looking at Enjolras who kind of freaked out.

„Relax. It’s just a dance.” he whispered, feeling his hand slowly coming up his arm, almost touching his neck. Grantaire loved that. He got lost in sweet music, having his soulmate’s face so near his own. He noticed Enjolras cut his hair. It was much shorter than when he saw him at the meeting. Now he could notice the color of his eyes. Blue, with a slight green accent.

„Grantaire?” Enjolras clamped his lips, moving slower. The artist kept him closer for just one more second, when suddenly the leader sighed, coming closer. R lost chairmanship in dance. Their steps synchronized and Enjolras surely leaded them through the hall, dancing around the easels. Then suddenly he let go of his hand and stopped. Grantaire bit his lip, withholding a scream and looked at Jehan. He ignored a stupid impression that Enjolras smiled slightly.

„So, welcome to _Na poddaszu.”_ he murmured. In this very moment the door opened again and Karol came inside, leading a group of people behind him.

 

—

 

Enjolras really was admiring his paintings. He seemed to look and analyze every single one, what took him a lot of time before he walked to another. It was the only thing Grantaire could think most of the time, until Karol walked up to him with a glass of champagne in his hand.

„Stop staring.” he said, giving it to Grantaire, „By the way, try only to slightly touch his arm. You don’t have to dance with him, you know that?”

R nodded, having a little sip. He didn’t want to get drunk, especially after the last time after a meeting, when Jehan was avoiding him until he got sober. Only then he let him sleep in their bed and Grantaire got so nostalgic that he was kissing him and hugging in turns. Jean was a good kisser. Such a good kisser. R felt guilty, admitting he thought about Enjolras in that moment. But then Jehan laughed and it didn’t seem like his Ares anymore. It was his Prouvaire. He needed to remember it. 

„I panicked.” he returned, looking around for his boyfriend. Karol sighed with discontent. 

„Prouvaire's left some time ago.” he said, shrugging, „Well, good enough you’ve even noticed.”

Grantaire felt sudden heat, this time not coming from his mark. Did Jean left because of him? He turned around, but Karol grabbed his shoulder.

„Later. Now, go give your lover some good news.”

R clenched his teeth, stepping backwards and coming into the crowd. Some people stopped him to say a few words.

„It’s great.”

„Thank you.”

„How did you…?”

„It’s all about technique.”

„It is you?”  
„Yeah.”

„Good job.”

„Thank you.”

Enjolras was standing in front of his newest painting. Grantaire finished it yesterday. Jean was sitting calmly on the grass, talking to his students. This art wasn’t like his previous ones. It wasn’t his dream, but the very reality. That’s why it looked so… simple. He tried to paint as an impressionist. Only this style fitted Jehan’s artlessness. And that’s what Grantaire wanted to show the most.

„It’s your boyfriend.” Enjolras looked at him. Grantaire came closer. 

„Yes, Jean.” he admitted, carefully brushing his arm with a relief. Pain was gone.

„I’ve met him. He’s fantastic. Full of ambition. I would love to have someone like him in Les Amis. We need every pair of hands.

Grantaire breathed out a few times, combing his hair with fingers.

„Yeah, he is. You know, all you have to do is ask him. He was the first one to tell me about you. He wants to join.”

Enjolras raised his eyebrows, turning to him with a blink in his eyes.

„Really?” he asked. Grantaire bit his cheek, looking away from his waist, which was well visible in this suit.

„Of course. And I have a good news. Karol agreed to hang some of our… your banners here. But they have to be subtle.”

Enjolras smiled, getting exited. He looked like a little child, who just got a new toy. He took his phone out.

„Thank you. Grantaire, that’s great! I can’t even find words… I’ll call Courfeyrac right away, he’ll handle this.” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. R waited, until he ended conversation and gave him a hand.

„It’s nothing.”

Enjolras ignored this, wrapping his arms around him and bringing him close in sensitive hug. Grantaire responded with the same enthusiasm without a second thought, but he was the first to step back, looking at the floor. The leader put a hand on his neck, keeping contact between them.

„Hey.” he breathed out, with a little concern, „I saw Jean leaving, if you are worrying about that. I don’t know if you had a fight, but he seemed nervous. Talk to him.”

Grantaire looked him in the eyes, wondering if Enjolras could felt his fast pulse. He nodded, but Enjolras stood still.

„R. About that dance… Please, don’t do that ever again.” he added quieter. The artist could hardly hear his words. His thoughts were drowning in Jehan. Did he leave because of him? Did he see how he acted towards Enjolras? Did he figure it out? Grantaire gulped, feeling boy’s finger rubbing his skin. He couldn’t understand why was he acting like that. What was on his mind? Where was his soulmate? Did he meet them already? Maybe… but only _maybe_ they had a chance, „I’m thankful for all your help. You did well. You are one of us now. I… want you near me. I mean, in Les Amis. Even if you don’t agree with us. I appreciate that very much. I hope we are going to see each other again. 

„Sure.”

„Hey. _Vive la révolution.”_

Grantaire laughed slightly, hearing his last words. Enjolras gifted him with a small, nice smile.

_„Niech żyje rewolucja.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a little dictionary:
> 
>  
> 
> On jest moją bratnią duszą - "He's my soulmate"  
> Ten chłopak od rewolucji? - "This revolution's boy?"  
> Daj, Boże, dobrą broń mieć, a nigdy jej nie użyć - "God grant me a good sword and no use for it" (Polish proverb)  
> Kochany - once again - "the loved one"  
> Na poddaszu - once again - "in the attic"  
> Vive la révolution - "Long live the revolution!" (French)  
> Niech żyje rewolucja! - "Long live the revoultion!" (Polish)
> 
> also:  
> Wanda is Polish version of Wendy :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed that little thing :)  
> I would love to see some comments and your opinions :)  
> I'm also on tumblr, come and say hi! (or send me a prompt, ask about head canons, I'd be more than happy to answer!)
> 
> { http://moriart-ish.tumblr.com }


	3. The Relation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dark, Paris was full of scums, going out to streets in search of some fun or easy gain. R was getting more worried with every second, writing full of panic texts to Bahorel, like his friend could do anything about this whole situation.  
> -  
> „Hey, Feuilly? Enjolras told me he’d come with you… Did something happen?” Grantaire said, sitting in the armchair in the corner.  
> -  
> „Only if at the beginning you push away the fact that’s reality.” Enjolras looked him in the eyes. For a few seconds none of them could say a word, sharing each other’s emotions. Grantaire put his free hand on boy’s neck, holding a breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HellO!
> 
> Firstly: I wrote this just for my own suffering but I decided to share! Here's where I got the idea from:  
> { http://wannabe-british-fangirl.tumblr.com/post/140258123830/soulmate-au-where-everyone-has-a-mark-on-their }
> 
> Secondly: I'm Polish, that's why I decided to add some words from my language, because I can totally see Grantaire being this way, I hope you'll enjoy him! (and other characters too)
> 
> Thirdly: Have fun!
> 
> (some translations at the end)

Grantaire came back home late in the evening, with his tie untied, hair tousled and dirty shoes. He looked for Jehan in every possible place, with concern making up all possible bad stories. Each one worse than the other. For a few hours he wondered why Jean left without telling him and R deduced he guessed that Enjolras is his soulmate. But it didn’t scare him as much as thought, that something might have happened to Jehan. 

After dark, Paris was full of scums, going out to streets in search of some fun or easy gain. R was getting more worried with every second, writing full of panic texts to Bahorel, like his friend could do anything about this whole situation.

Coming inside their building, Grantaire felt like a complete idiot, hearing slight, jazz music playing somewhere on the fourth floor. He realized, he never thought that Jehan could be home. Boy was usually in the university, park or walking on the streets of Paris, talking to random strangers. He was at home only if Grantaire was there or he needed some time, silence or…

„He needed to learn.” Grantaire wiped his face with hand, feeling incredible relief which drown out his concern. He was such a moron. He climbed upstairs and slowly opened the door, looking inside the apartment. The lights were turned on, a smell of pizza coming from the kitchen and there was Jehan’s coronet lying on the commode in the hall, which he wore on the display. Grantaire took of shoes, unbuttoning his vest. He walked to the living room.

Jean was lying on the ground, six other books and a notebook lying in front of him. He propped head on his hand with his eyes closed, holding back an yawn. Candles he put on the stable a couple of hours ago were burning out, giving a weak, pale light. Grantaire noticed how confined it was in there. He unbuttoned his shirt too, quietly sitting on the carpet. Jean almost ignored him, giving only a slight mumble as a greeting.

„What happened?” Grantaire moved closer to him, panning a copy of _Macbeth_ aside, „You’ve left early.”

Jean frayed his eye, writing something on the piece of paper, still not telling a word. Grantaire moved another book, lying just by his side.

„Jean?” he whispered, but boy started to log fervently, „Stop ignoring me. Are you mad at me?”

Grantaire caught his hand, stopping the pen on the word _betrayal._ He felt an awful shiver, drawing away all bad thoughts. Jehan sighed deeply, lying head next to the notebook and looking at him with sleepy eyes.

„Of course I’m not. I’m sorry. I told you I have to learn. I wanted to leave earlier, but you didn’t pay any attention to me, that’s why I haven’t told you. Plus, I left my phone in Karol’s office.”

Grantaire smiled slightly, joining their hands together. Jean closed his eyes again and squeezed his palm. He was tired. Simply tired. R thrown away the rest of his books and put his arms around Jehan, hiding face in the crook of his neck. Boy clang fingers in Grantaire’s hair, putting one leg on his hip.

„It should be me first to say sorry. I’m giving you my whole attention right now, okay? No more books and learning for today.” the artist kissed a little place just behind Jean’s ear, noticing an empty can of energy drink under the table, „What did you drink?”

Jehan rubbed against him delicately, placing little kisses on his neck. Grantaire rolled on his back to feel more comfortable.

„Just two cans of this energy stuff. And a coffee.” Jean said quietly. R pushed him away, cupping his face in hand and rubbing a light blush. Jean had tired eyes with black rings around them and his clothes were wrinkled. He must’ve been sitting over the books so long now but suddenly he revived and all his tiredness disappeared. Grantaire knew it was because of caffeine. He didn’t want to expose Jehan for it’s side effects. 

„You’re going to take a shower. And then you’ll go to sleep.” he said surely, trying to imitate Enjolras’s firm voice, but with feeble result. Jean frowned, putting his hands on Grantaire’s stomach, scratching his shirt. _Oh gods,_ Grantaire thought, observing his shoulders’s movement with every breath. The jersey slipped down his skin, showing collarbone and his lips formed into little smile. Jean looked at the clock.

„I need to read another chapter” he murmured, getting on the carpet and reaching for one of his books, but R caught his arm, pinning him to the floor, „Just one!”

Grantaire tugged him close, kissing the back of his neck. He pulled out his phone, placing it in front of them, so each one could see the screen. 

„I told you, you’re done for today. And tomorrow… Well tomorrow I can find you something to do. How about this: we are organizing a movie night. We can invite everyone from Les Amis. Would you like that? Look…” he whispered to his ear, picking some numbers, „Just tell me who you want to come.”

Jehan laughed uneasily, pulling up his knees so he could bare Grantaire’s weight.

„Invite Enjolras” he said. The artist froze, feeling his heartbeat fasten. 

„Who?”

„Are you kidding me right now? Enjolras. You danced with him today. Practically, you’re friends.”

Grantaire moved away, thinking hardly. He knew that if he would ask his soulmate to come, he would’t be able to look away from him. And the pain itself wasn’t something encouraging. Could he really deal with it every day? Still, Enjolras was such a tempting proposition. Maybe, if he charted himself some basic rules. Firstly: keep yourself focused on Jehan. Secondly: you cannot panic. Thirdly: do not touch Enjolras at any cost, if you don’t have to.

Would it bring any effort?

„I don’t have his number” he said, but Jean rolled up his sleeve, showing him some numbers, written on his forearm. Granaire cursed under his breath, adding number to contacts. He hesitated before sending the message, looking shortly at Jehan who got lost in his books. Grantaire deleted Enjolras’s number from group text and clicked the button. Yet, after a while he created another message.

 

**to: Enjolras (Ares)**

**hi. i’m doing a movie night tomorrow. at my place. if u’d like to meet… well everybody is going to be here (i think so) you can come. please? R (Grantaire, in case you don’t remember)**

 

„Done. Ey, whatcha doin’? I told you to stop learning.” Grantaire dragged Jean away from the notebook and sat down on the couch, helping him sit on his laps, „You can take care of me now. What do you say?”

Jehan bit his lip, leaning to kiss him deeply. Grantaire put his hands on boy’s tights, holding him close when he slipped his hand under the shirt. Jean’s touch was something such delicate and nice. Like he wasn’t sure if R would agree with his next move, but decided to take a risk. At the same time the way his hands wondered all around Grantaire’s body, showed Jehan’s hidden voracity, which he knew so much about.

Just a moment later, when the phone buzzed, both of them were without their shirts, getting lost in each other’s gestures and desires, kissing with such an emotion, which only two not meant to be together people could create. Grantaire stopped fantasying about Enjolras for a while, knowing that his touch wouldn’t ever be so soft as Jehan’s touch and his kiss wouldn’t be as delicate as this one, he was experiencing right now.

Jean moaned quietly when Grantaire pulled away to check his phone. Boy immediately took care of his neck, kissing his way down to the mark, where he stopped, enjoying it’s slight warm. Grantaire looked at the message.

 

**from: Enjolras (Ares)**

**Of course I remember. I’ll come with Feuilly and Bahorel. Thank you! Save me a good sit if you care ;)**

 

The artist breathed out, feeling a herd of butterflies attacking his stomach. He couldn’t help himself but smile. He touched Jehan’s chin cautiously, kissing him with tenderness.

 _„J_ _e t’aime”_ Jean whispered, moving away to take a breath. Grantaire looked at him with some sadness and put his hand on boy’s mark. Something was wrong. It was warmer than before. Grantaire felt sudden prick in his heart, but his smile became wider. Jean’s soulmate was close. He wasn’t aware of that. He had a chance to find his happiness, „ _Mon chéri?”_

 _„_ I love you too” Grantaire replied. Jean repeated their kiss, slowly getting up and leading him behind. Grantaire entertained their fingers, letting him play.

„I want to make love to you.” Jean said, almost hitting on the commode. Grantaire caught him, laughing. Boy always used this phrase. He though it sounded much better than anything else, which society considered as a standard. Grantaire shrugged, seeing Jehan’s eyes light up.

„Anything you want, my love.”

 

—

 

„It’s awful, Bahorel. Cover it!”

The pillow flown through the half of the room, hitting Bossuet’s head. The boy turned around sharply, spilling yoghurt from a spoon he was holding in his hand on the couch. The living room filled with loud laugh.

„Yeah, I have an outie belly button! Fight me!” Bahorel shouted, smiling to Feuilly, who only rolled his eyes with a disapproval.

„Oh dear, Jean, we’re so sorry. I’ll wipe it right away.” Joly raised from his sit and disappeared in a hallway, heading towards bathroom. Bossuet gave Courfeyrac reproachful stare, before putting more yoghurt on a spoon and placing it in his mouth.

„Ew! I beg you! Cover it in The Name Of Lord!” Courfeyrac curled on his armchair, looking away from Bahorel. Feuilly leaned to his soulmate’s belly and kissed it quickly.

„I kinda like it.” he murmured. He got up, looking at some movies lying on the table, „Grantaire, those are only Disney’s movies.”

R looked at Jehan with an amazed look and moved closer to give him a kiss.

„I’ve chosen other movies, but someone switched them before we left the shop.”

„You’re here, because Grantaire tries to find ways of keeping me away from learning. I’d rather watch something easy, not really complicated” Jean raised his hands in gesture of defend with a little smile, „If you open that cupboard, you’ll find „Romeo and Juliet”, „Catch Me If You Can” and „Dead Poets Society”. You can choose whatever you want.”

„A movie night? Oh, no. He’s using us without our knowledge! I wonder what else Grantaire’s doing to keep you away from learning.” Bossuet winked to Cosette, who replied with a smile. Grantaire bowed over kitchen table with a loud sigh of disapproval, looking at his guests. Three of them were sitting on the couch, two on the armchair, one disappeared in the bathroom and the rest was lying on the floor with an accompany of blankets and pillows. There was only one person missing and Grantaire was too much aware of that. When Feuilly and Bahorel showed up at the doors, it seemed to be weird, because he didn’t feel any warm or pain in his mark. Even when they came inside, he waited a longer while, hoping that Enjolras just stayed behind. Until now, he kept himself from asking his friends about this, but he couldn't just prolong playing the film. Combeferre handed him a little bowl of popcorn, giving snacks to everyone.

„Hey, Feuilly? Enjolras told me he’d come with you… Did something happen?” Grantaire said, sitting in the armchair in the corner. Boy crinkled his eyes, looking at him, curious. He was the only one to react like this. Feuilly propped on his knees.

„He is not going to come, probably. There’s a problem with government, they hooked up to Musain. There’s a chance we won’t be able meet there for some time, that’s why Enjolras decided to turn his apartment into meeting place. That requires a lot of cleaning and he’s not really aware how to do that.”

Grantaire nodded, but Feuilly kept looking at him with a weird blink in his eye. The artist coughed loudly, turning to Marius.

„So, what are we watching?” he asked, turning on the DVD, „Personally, I recommend _The Beauty and The Beast.”_

The boy stretched, showing him one of the boxes.

„ _Peter Pan?_ ”

Everyone looked at each other with quiet agreement.

„ _Peter Pan._ ”

Bahorel put his arm over Feuilly, frowning.

„Can I infer to change the next movie into something else than animation?”

Nobody disagreed.

Grantaire couldn’t stay focused on the movie. Enjolras wasn’t coming and he didn’t inform him about this. R knew he didn’t have a right to be touched or miffed, but he couldn’t handle this. It was not his will. Ares completely took over his thoughts.

After some time he decided to move next to Jehan and simply hug him, from time to time kissing his arm. Boy let him do this with a joy, by himself turning to Grantaire and catching his lips in a passionate kiss. Grantaire put his hair behind his ear, biting his lip. They both knew, a movie night was only an excuse.

Joly interrupted them, by coming back from the bathroom. Nobody had any idea what was he doing there for so long, but he needed to carefully get back on his sit and he decided to walk just between Grantaire and Jehan.

They moved away, watching Joly who tried not to step on them. When he sat down, Jean dabbed his boyfriend’s cheek with his lips and looked at the screen, placing R’s hands on his stomach.

„We’ll do this when they’ll leave. Alright?” he said quietly, smiling under his breath. Grantaire closed his eyes, listening to fast music coming from the speakers. He exhaled loudly, finding a phone in his pocket annoying. He took it out and unblocked the screen. He could just ask Enjolras why he didn’t text him. Normal conversation. Jean curled up against him, covering his legs with a blanket and looking for some cuddling. It was a subtle sign he was going to fall asleep soon and Grantaire didn’t want to disturb him. He picked Enjolras’s number, before helping Jehan lie on his chest.

 

**to: Enjolras (Ares)**

**Feuilly told me you’re not coming??**

 

It didn’t took long for Enjolras to answer.

 

**from: Enjolras (Ares)**

**Probably, I’m sorry.**

 

**to: Enjolras (Ares)**

**were u going to inform me about this?**

 

**from: Enjolras (Ares)**

**No**

 

Granaire frowned. What was that supposed to mean? Another text came just a second later.

 

**from: Enjolras (Ares)**

**Don’t get me wrong! I didn’t tell you, because I hoped… I hope I can make it.**

 

**from: Enjolras (Ares)**

**Does it make any sense?**

 

**to: Enjolras (Ares)**

**oh, yeah. i get it. well, i hope you’ll show up too. :)**

 

**from: Enjolras (Ares)**

**Hey, I’ll try :) I promise**

 

He fell on the pillows, petting Jehan’s waist. Grantaire noticed that Enjolras liked to promise a lot of things. But he had no base not to believe him. Or in him. He smiled to himself like a fool. He could only wait, because Enjolras promised him something.

 

—

 

They watched one more animation, but they turned off „Romeo and Juliet” in half, because of Courfeyrac, who kept complaining about poor scenography and costumes, especially on dialogs. He couldn’t get over the fact that actors weren’t quoting the book. Jean would probably join him, if he wasn’t asleep, breathing deeply and calmly with every while more limply slipping on the floor. Granaire picked him up, wrapping arms around his waist and putting his head on the chest. Pillows behind him got flat, what made his back hurt. Still, Jehan needed some rest and he couldn’t break this cinnamon roll’s dream.

Enjolras didn’t show up for the next three hours.

 

—

 

Burning became almost unendurable long after the midnight and Grantaire was so sleepy, he hardly noticed it. Combeferre and Bahorel were talking quietly, holding their tired soulmates, Joly, Marius, Bossuet and Cosette were watching some movie with an engagement. Someone knocked on the door, but nobody really cared about that.

Enjolras came inside. He was wearing a little too big coat and a scarf. Grantaire noticed a little pack in his had. Boy took off his shoes and nodded towards his friends with a little „hello”. Grantaire hugged Jehan tighter, clenching his teeth. The leader took his coat too, hanging it on a hanger. He put pack on the kitchen table, slowly expanding the paper and showed him a box. Grantaire hardly could read the word. 

_The Pianist._

He smiled, pointing at the TV. Enjolras waved his hand.

„Maybe later” he whispered, giving the box to Bossuet. For a moment, he looked around the room, before sitting in an armchair as far from Grantaire as possible. He was wearing sweatpants, and the artist found it distracting. He haven’t seen Enjolras like this before. He looked awful. His hair were jutting in every way, he got shadows under his eyes, which were closing on their own now. He was tired, and it reminded Grantaire Jehan’s condition from last night.

Enjolras wiped his face with a hand, yawning longly and holding his legs with the other arm. It could’t be a comfortable position. 

Grantaire waved to him, feeling a wave of heat and pain hitting him. Enjolras didn’t notice him. He was looking idly at the screen, not really paying attention to the plot of the movie. Grantaire coughed.

„Can we see _The Pianist_? Enjolras brought it.”

Marius murmured something to himself, looking around. Bossuet and Joly agreed kind of reluctantly, so Cosette changed the DVD’s. Grantaire took his phone in hand, straightening. A massive cramp ran through his back.

 

**to: Enjolras (Ares)**

**tough day?**

 

Enjolras cringed, feeling his phone ringing. He read the message and gave Grantaire a playful stare. He looked at the screen again, writing an answer.

 

**from: Enjolras (Ares)**

**It has to be my turn, I guess**

 

**to: Enjolras (Ares)**

**you told me to save you a good sit and now you are sitting so far away**

 

**from: Enjolras (Ares)**

**There was no other place**

 

**to: Enjolras (Ares)**

**i can move. come here**

 

**from: Enjolras (Ares)**

**No thanks. I’m good**

 

**to: Enjolras (Ares)**

**it wasn’t a question**

 

Grantaire sighed slightly, trying to find a good position. Enjolras watched him for a longer moment, frowning.

 

**from: Enjolras (Ares)**

**It was an answer**

 

**to: Enjolras (Ares)**

**i beg you, my back’s dying**

 

**to: Enjolras (Ares)  
please?**

 

The leader wondered for a moment, pretending to be watching the movie. He pivoted phone in his hand, biting cheek, before he got up, scratching his hand. Enjolras walked over the couch, kneeling next to Grantaire. He tried to look seriously, but the smile was hiding on his lips.

„Where does it hurt?” he asked.

„Everywhere” R muttered.

„I think I could… Try this.” Enjolras helped him to move and sat behind him. R lied on him with a relief. His soulmate’s hands laid on his shoulders, making him shiver a bit. Enjolras moved his knuckles like he was going to massage him. Grantaire looked at him, „You don’t have to. Are you comfortable?”

Enjolras nodded unsurely, unwittingly keeping his fingers moving on artist’s muscles. He turned to the screen. Grantaire went silent for a moment, enjoying his touch. Just as he thought, it didn’t feel like Jehan’s at all. Enjolras had bigger hands, more rough skin. Every his movement, even with nicety, was certain and considered. Grantaire wanted it so badly. He wanted Enjolras to stay this way. To be the leader.

„Why _The Pianist_?” he asked, twisting his head and suddenly he realized that Enjolras’s mark was cold. Completely. It wasn’t pulsing with even little warm. What more, this piece of his skin was even colder than the rest. Grantaire placed his cheek above boy’s heart. It was beating fast. That’s exactly how R’s mark was acting before he left Warsaw. Enjolras’s soulmate wasn’t in Paris. Grantaire gulped, feeling sorrow. What if Enjolras decided to meet his soulmate? What if he’ll leave?

„I thought you would like to see it.” he whispered, „I went back today’s morning to see your display with Feuilly. I loved it. Feuilly mentioned that it was your favorite movie and you left a copy in Warsaw. I had one in my house.”

Grantaire listened to him with a little surprise. Enjolras slipped his hand in R’s hair and started to play with it slowly. He focused on the plot again.

„Thank you.” Grantaire said. No one heard him.

 

—

 

The credits appeared on the screen. Grantaire couldn’t hold back tears, which were running down his face for a few minutes now. He wasn’t the only one, though. Cosette was shaking in arms of half awake Marius and Bahorel was discreetly wiping out his eyes, whispering nice words to Feuilly, who, for his own misfortune, drank a whole cup of coffee in the middle of the film and watched it all till the end. Combeferre fell asleep with Courfeyreac just after Bossuet covered them with a blanket, so they would be more comfortable.

Enjolras blinked a few times, noticing his shirt’s getting wet and rubbed Grantaire’s arm, brushing hair from his face.

„Everything is okay. Shh, easy.” he said, tugging him and Jehan close. 

„I know. It’s just, it happened. Those were real people. Doesn’t it make everything more awful and scary?” Grantaire moved closer, reaching for a touch.

„Only if at the beginning you push away the fact that’s reality.” Enjolras looked him in the eyes. For a few seconds none of them could say a word, sharing each other’s emotions. Grantaire put his free hand on boy’s neck, holding a breath. Enjolras smiled sadly, rubbing his cheek with his finger, what made R think about the way he hold him yesterday, in the gallery. The artist copied his move. Enjolras didn’t protest. Why didn’t he protest? Enjolras closed eyes, his head brushing against  R’s hand. He was acting differently. So differently, like the tiredness showed his real nature. He wasn’t a fearless leader, but maybe it was easier for him to put this mask on for a day, when the sun was brightening his person, and the light was covering all imperfections. Now, he was just Enjolras, not the Great Ares, heading towards a war.

„ _Ileż by szczęścia oczy me zaznały, widząc twą piękność podczas dnia żywego”_ whispered Grantaire, noticing how Enjolras is leaning to him, picking his chin up. He immediatelytook his hand off his neck, turning away, „Maybe I should call you Apollo instead.”

Enjolras cleared his throat, getting suddenly irritated. He moved, to make himself a bit of more space and let Grantaire lie on him again. The artist felt his quite too fast pulse. Far too fast.

„Maybe you should stop talking to people in Polish, if you want them to understand you.”

R took a pilot in his hand and turned the TV off. Cosette did the same to the lights. The roomed filled up with the darkness, unplugged with some of moon’s glare and calm breaths of sleeping people. Jean was lying on his chest, murmuring something through sleep. The artist made himself comfortable, feeling Enjolras’s arm hugging him.

„What if I don’t want them to understand me?”

His Apollo didn’t answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's a little dictionary:
> 
> "Ileż by szczęścia oczy me zaznały, widząc twą piękność podczas dnia żywego” - it's actualy a quote from Shakeapeare's Sonnet 43, in original:
> 
> "How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made  
> By looking on thee in the living day"
> 
> in free translating it would be 
> 
> "How happy would my eyes be, if they saw your beauty in a living day"
> 
> (IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO POST THIS CHAPTER, I'LL TRY POST MORE OFTEN, BUT I'M GOING ON A CAMP IN SUMMER)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed that little thing :)  
> I would love to see some comments and your opinions :)  
> I'm also on tumblr, come and say hi! (or send me a prompt, ask about head canons, I'd be more than happy to answer!)
> 
> { http://moriart-ish.tumblr.com }


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